Black Sugar Fest
by Nusaka
Summary: Childhood isn't always full of cotton candy and sweet dreams, sometimes it's blood and fear with nightmares. Gaara and Hinata know this. AU GaaraHinata.
1. Chapter 1

_Black Sugar Fest_

_Chapter One: Fire-Starter_

**WARNING**: This story will have (occasionally) immature sex partners at times though brief and aren't dissected as anything but vague. Not like giggly immature or anything-but UNDERAGE. It will also be…a lot more vulgar in scenes (sometimes) than anything else-I swear. Beware (it rhymes!). And…don't say I didn't warn you, ne? It's in capital and bold print. Please…READ the warning before proceeding, thankies.

XxX

One thing Gaara had learned over his disturbing childhood; he was a perfectionist-of arson arts that is. It had been at night, at the tender age of eight when he lit his first fire. He'd stolen a candle and a matchstick and lit only the matchstick. The candle ended up serving no purpose when he only lit the hay of a barn that his neighbors (the ones who were babysitting him and his siblings while his father was away) owned. The fire had roared and the scent of burning hay invaded his senses gloriously-his wide, not so innocent eyes taking it in with relish the wife of their neighbor said was reserved for only those hell born ones. The fire had burned down everything, the barn, the hay and he watched in a sick fascination while the trapped animals panicked. To everyone else around him-his big brother and sister, the neighbor's wife…it was horrendous and they couldn't do anything. To him, to little, strawberry loving Gaara…it was like candy. The horses rearing and pawing at the air, foam frothing about their lips and their eyes wide enough to show the whites of their eyes. They screamed. They screamed till their throats were roasted and corpses lay blackened on the floors.

The neighbor's wife stared at him, hand over her mouth with a frightened look in her eyes, "_Demon child_." There was no reaction from him. He only turned to stare back at the roaring fire that escalated higher and higher, clawing at the dark navy sky with greedy talons. The sound of the horses screaming, trying to free themselves from their sturdy stalls, replayed in his mind like a broken record. Over and over and over…they were desperate to flee, as he was desperate for a bigger body count. After that, the rest was history; more fires, more chaos and generally more family problems which weren't his fault.

However, at his age of sixteen he'd gotten better at controlling his urges to start fires, luckily, but there would always be that same craving once in a while when he was tense or stressed. Now, at one thirty in the morning, he stood before a broke down building with shattered windows and a rusting roof. Unconsciously he flicked the lid of his Zippo lighter open and thumbed it closed in a rapid precession while he twirled the beer bottle between his fingers. His shrink had told him more than once to just take deep breaths, instead of punching someone in the face suddenly to shut them up, told him to try to relax his muscles instead of looking for trouble in order to let out steam. Well, his shrink was also the fucking quack who told him not to light things up and watch buildings burn.

Of course, he'd never been caught as his father had made sure of that when he'd sought out a shrink with only money on his mind and paid him a little extra to keep the whole arsonist thing hush-hush. To Gaara, it didn't matter if he was caught or not; he would do it either way. Though, the only reason he kept this particular money grubbing moron around was because he actually found him a way to talk to her. Hyuuga Hinata of Konoha High; in the country of Konohagakure who happened to be his long time friend. When he talked a bit about her to his shrink, though, the guy seemed interested in what he had to say about her; an odd reason, usually when he was describing her to people (depending on who these people were; they usually got a black eye for insulting her or himself) they would turn out an ear or try to change the subject. He asked Gaara to talk about her a little more, asked questions, some which Gaara knew the answer to and others he was unsure but had observed enough from her mannerisms and some which he had no clue. He wanted Gaara to talk to her at least once a week when her family would permit her (doubtful) to talk to Sunagakure's most prized fighter and also unknown fire-starter, then on their next session to talk a bit more about her.

The beer wasn't great; Gaara mused when he tipped his head back and gave the liquid access to his mouth. It was little on the sweet side and a very light beer; not dark and bitter; not intoxicating. It was…fruity. But, he looked on the bright side, it was very flammable. He puffed his cheeks out and pursed his lips tightly before spraying it out to test it. The Zippo lighter's lid was flipped back and a flame the size of the tip of pinky suddenly burst into an element the size of Gaara himself when the beer washed over the flame and caught. The lighter's lid flipped over it, and shut the flame source off before Gaara wiped his lips clear of the fluid.

The damn psychologist even suggested bringing in a photo of her and setting it up in Gaara's room. What? Excuse? Use it for what? Gaara knew what she looked like; his first and probably last best friend (the only one who would actually stick through with him through thick and thin), so what? Did the doctor think he was in love with her? Did the doc think he needed to release tension in a more 'natural' way and so should be carefully 'associated' with a female he could think about in his **_special alone_** time?! What an idiot. There was quite a bold line between friendship love and true love or whatever the doctor preached on about.

Gaara rummaged around his pocket for a stray piece of paper; the binder paper he'd written doodles on earlier and he crumpled it to fit through the slim neck of the bottle. With half of it sticking out, the Zippo lighter was flicked on once more and the tiny flame danced hypnotically. Smirking wildly, a maniac's grin plastered on his face while he lit the paper in the bottle that contained three fourths of the disgusting beer a friend had given him to try out; his own brand made in his basement. The paper caught easily. Tucking his trusty lighter in his pant's pocket, he hurtled the bottle into the building and heard a sure sounding break. Sitting on a knoll a bit away from the building, he stared at the fire one with the same amount of intensity of a virgin lover. Knees up and his arms resting over them, he watched the flames rise and rise and rise and claw vigorously. His thoughts stumbled over a few days' worth of sessions with his shrink, all a calamity of the order his mind set them in.

_The one thing-besides letting the doctor know about Hinata-that he regretted telling the doctor…was that he wasn't a virgin. The doctor, of course, wasn't surprised when the son of such a powerful man of Sunagakure wasn't alien to carnal desires, however, he _had_ been surprised when Gaara, in a moment of suspended weakness on the anniversary of his mother's death, had said at how young an age he'd lost it. Thirteen…the son of perhaps the wealthiest and most influential man in Sunagakure had lost his virginity at such a young age and the shrink warily inquired how old the girl had been who had lost it to. The same age as he, and the shrink was writing something down when Gaara's eyes glazed in memory of her. "_Who was she, Gaara?_" a glare from the boy told him everything he needed to know. _

The fire was getting him high-in a sort of sleepy way. He felt relaxed now; 'floaty' even as Hinata had described what his high was probably like. The tenseness in his muscles had faded to leave a languorous jelly like feel to his normally sinewy body. Like a flavored cherry cigarette to a smoke addict, he took in the sight of the fire and relished it with every breath he took. Eyes half lidded in a look of almost a lizard like laziness took in every minor detail of what was happening about him and the crisp night air didn't affect him. Despite the black shirt he wore over a mesh shirt, no jacket covered his rather broad and yet slim frame while the cold air battered at him and nipped cruelly with comings of winter. The scent the fire was releasing was wild, alive and rampant; it was glorious.

_The doc wanted to ask what he thought her, if he wanted to have sex with her again. Gaara stared at him impassively and though the doctor had had him longer than any other shrink could have bragged about; he didn't know whether that was a no or yes. His impenetrable barrier of stone and ice that cloaked the deadly fire beneath was rather…frightening on such a young adolescent; though nothing the doctor had never dealt with before. Changing tactics in order to hopefully extract some sort of answer that may link to his previously unanswered question; he asked, "_Why did you have sex with Hinata, then Gaara_?" Gaara had then turned his head to the side to look out the window, over the restless desert. Gaara had only answered with, "She needed me to do it." The doctor was thrown for a random loop of his mysterious words that opened the doors to other theories. _"Why did she need you to do it, Gaara? Why you?_" while the question wasn't insulting and Gaara knew it wasn't, his fist clenched on his pants and he wouldn't talk throughout most of his session. _

The fire was dying now, slowly and Gaara got up to stretch his much too relaxed limbs-he could hear a car coming. Ruffling his hair, he trotted down the knoll and in the direction of the house he shared with his siblings-not with his father and latest whore of the week. His boots crunched against the gravel while he walked listlessly and had changed direction from his house to just wandering around through the town like an abandoned mutt. The announcement of winter came in breathy gusts of chilly wind that raced down the back of Gaara whose skin only broke out in raised bumps to acknowledge the change of temperature. Within the pocket of his baggy black pants, he toyed with the lighter, weaving it in between his fingers continuously. His breath came out before him in continuous little fog clouds that puffed over him like smoke from a train. His pale grey green eyes observed a cat digging through trash, clawing a bag open before diving in, a hooker in a golden skirt kneeling before a man's open fly, mouth open, then his oddly colored orbs roved over to a boy and his girlfriend giggled over some inane thing.

"_Gaara, listen, I'm just asking, but…why did Hinata need you to have sex with you? Did she love you and you didn't love her back? Or…she wanted to know what it was like? Was she curious and only trusted you?" the doctor had been asking questions non stop and Gaara felt the need to crack him across the jaw. He wanted to know too much. The shrink finally sighed in resignation before pinching the skin between his constantly crinkling brows, "Gaara, come now, why?" he asked. He may be a newbie at dealing with patients, only having three others before Gaara, but through only those three; he'd learned nearly endless patience. Gaara looked over at him, his grey green eyes staring right through the psychologist who felt unnerved, the black circles partially from a little eyeliner and insomnia growing thicker while his eyes narrowed. Finally, the disturbed boy spoke, "_She needed me, and I said yes_." Once more, through their session, no progress was made and his shrink made a point to not even ask something related to Hinata at all_.

By the time he got home, dragging himself in and letting in cold air while he slipped out of his shoes, everyone was in bed. Well, who else was up and at it in four in the morning on a Saturday; a day to sleep in? Looking over at the note sticking to the fridge, it was from Temari-'_Gaara, there's dinner in the fridge and pancake batter in a measuring cup-use your imagination.'-Loves'n Bugs, Temari_. He felt caught between scowling and snorting at the corniness and yet sarcasm that laced the simple note; so instead he improvised and did both. Rummaging through the fridge, he came upon a cherry coke left for dead and he twisted the cap open to the partially consumed (also much too highly caffeinated) beverage. Gulping it down rapidly and feeling the rush of cold along with the special ness of any soda-the ability to make you tear mildly when too cold, he let his eyes roll back to enjoy the sugar carnival in his mouth. Twisting the cap back on after drinking half of it in one gulp, he put it back in the fridge for Temari or Kankurou to discover and possibly gag at since he was fairly sure that he left quite a bit of back wash behind.

"_Well, Gaara, what do you want to talk about today?" the psychologist sounded rather drained and-dare he think it- hollow, almost defeated. The redhead shrugged with one shoulder absently and he turned to look out the window. "…Why…don't you tell me how you met Hinata, then, Gaara?" the shrink's voice was hesitant. Gaara tensed a little though not noticeably to the shrink, his hands freezing solidly. "What was she like when you met her? Where did you meet-anything. Just tell me something," his voice was persuasive and Gaara's father refused to receive any reports of Gaara's conditions or progressions (to be blind from seeing how fucked up his youngest of the brood was) from the shrink so it couldn't be used against him. "_Shy, timid and wouldn't talk to anyone. Her hair was cut like a boy's and she looked different to the point where most people considered it ugly._" The doctor stopped-progress, "Did you think she was ugly?" Gaara replied without hesitation, "_Yes, but she invited me to play with her when I was seven-she was still ugly for a while, but she grew out of it_." The doctor blinked at Gaara's ruthless honest streak before starting once more, "Was she the only-" Gaara cut in without allowing any more words to be passed, _"Yes, my best friend-first and probably last"

Pulling out the pancake batter from the fridge, he cleared some space on the counter and set it up from breakfast things-at six in the morning after a cat nap on the couch. The pancake batter on one side of the counter, he pulled out the bacon and after some thoughts, some chocolate syrup and a carton of milk. While he poured the pancake batter into an already hot pan, he briefly wondered how Hinata was doing. The last time he'd been able to talk to her had been three weeks ago when her father had suddenly caught her on the phone with him-the phone had then rung a dead dial tone after he'd discovered them. The least to say, he hadn't been happy and now, the two of them could only talk whenever her father was out of town or Hinata could sneak a conversation-it wasn't often. The old bastard still hated him after what happened a year ago-prick, think he could at least learn to _let go_.

Gaara blearily watched the bubbles rise on the side of the still battery pancake. His eyes, almost sleepy looking, blinked slowly and he flipped the bacon over with his left arm, his right expertly flipping the pancake over. Working with two pans wasn't something many people could do-only one other good cook had been able to do that to his knowledge that he knew-Hinata. Mostly the only reason he could cook was because of that girl-and when he and Temari tried (failed numerous times) to cook well for the first time. He dished the pancake and rather lazily threw the bacon on the glass plate. His chocolate milk was already mixed and he had to remind himself to kick Kankurou's ass the next time he saw him because the syrup was almost gone. He knew it wasn't his sister who hated the stuff so it had to be the house's fattest ass who was very much out of shape. Gaara sat at the dining table, looking out the window that overlooked the road to Konohagakure.

"_Well, Gaara, why don't you compare your family to Hinata's? Or…what she likes compared to your likes?" Gaara didn't answer the shrink. The psychologist barely resisted the urge to throw his pen on the ground and have a little hissy fit. "_My family is frightened of me-she is frightened of hers_." The shrink blinked, "Is 'your family' including-" Gaara interrupted him. "_Yes, they're scared too_," plain and simple-he was the family boogieman. "Why is she frightened of hers?" Gaara was silent and only looking at him with oddly glass like eyes-like a doll's blank ones. "_She wears a jacket-it's the same one I bought for her last year_." The shrink prodded for more answers-but the boy only left a fox trail for him to chase after. _

Stabbing a piece of bacon and pancake before shoving them into his mouth (chewing with his mouth closed) a thought came to him-rather random too. '_That jacket…it's probably getting a little small_.'

-

People keep bugging me for an update. I like the plotline but I didn't like how it was turning out so I'm rewriting it. Expect the next next chapter soon because inspiration struck.


	2. Chapter 2

_Black Sugar Fest_

_Chapter Two: Sticks 'n Stones_

**WARNING**: This story will have (occasionally) immature sex partners at times though brief and aren't dissected as anything but vague. Not like giggly immature or anything-but UNDERAGE. It will also be…a lot more vulgar in scenes (sometimes) than anything else-I swear. Beware (it rhymes!). And…don't say I didn't warn you, ne? It's in capital and bold print. Please…READ the warning before proceeding, thankies.

XxX

_She was crying, whimpering and sniveling on the floor when he came to get her after class. He stared down at her questioningly, not really looking all too angered though his fist was clenched. The classroom was silent and empty, papers strewn across the floor. He'd waited outside the door for his twelve year old friend for nearly fifteen minutes and he had to go to martial arts soon, (the Sunagakure and Konohagakure exchange in fighting styles happening again), and he'd gone into the classroom when he saw that the teacher had left earlier. He stood at the door, staring down at her while she wept. _

_He saw the tears in her shirt and the skirt, one shoe looked as though it had been either kicked off or taken off then thrown away while her other was still on her tiny foot. Small bruises like fingers and red marks littered her arms. He approached her slowly, and then crouching down so he was level with her and stared at her, not blinking and waiting for her to look up. Sniffling and rubbing the heels of her hands against her eyes, she opened her soaked eyes to stare back at him. "What happened?" he asked blankly, not really saying anything else nor sounding concerned. She shook her head from side to side, her short cut hair bobbing with her head's movements. Her legs were splayed awkwardly beneath her and she moved them slowly, hesitantly before she drew her knees up and rested her head on them. Gaara didn't move for a while and neither did she. _

"_T-they s-s-said th-that since I-I-I h-hung out with y-you s-so much that I-I wouldn't mind," she said suddenly through the thick silence. Gaara didn't move for a bit before he sat down in front of her with his legs up and open, an arm slung over a knee casually. She was mumbling, "…t-told m-me to s-s-stop hiding u-underneath the j-jacket." His eyes followed hers when they roamed to come to rest in the small trashcan of the classroom that held tatters of her dark blue jacket. He grunted vaguely and waited for the rest of her sentence, he'd long ago learned that if you pressured her too much she would clam up and be unresponsive to many things. She was handful, and unfortunately or fortunately, she was his handful. She let out a choked sob and hiccoughed. "T-th-th-they wanted t-to see…a-and you know!" she shot out, and he listened, paying attention with that infamous poker face. "I-I couldn't let…them…" she trailed off lamely. _

"_Hn," he replied, staring at her arms, the rip in her school uniform blouse showed her small bra and growing tender areas – shapeless lumps that the boys would often stare at when she didn't wear her jacket. He breathed out through his nose, "They do anything to you?" he asked, allowing her to scoot closer when he saw her shiver from the cold air conditioning she had no protection against anymore. She shook her head, angling it to stare at her bruises, frowning and crying again. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, before turning to her quickly, his thumb brushing away tears in a rare moment of comfort, "Don't cry. You protected yourself from them and won – no tears then." A wobbly, sappy smile appeared on her face, laughing a little through her tears. _

_She nodded and tugging on his favorite large black jacket, a small skull sewed in the back's lining. She'd made the design for him but he sewed it on himself. Gulping down more tears, she raised her barrier, "N-no t-t-tears." She repeated, nodding her head and she smiled again. Gaara smirked partially and stood, then reached down with a hand to lift her up. _

_He shrugged off his jacket and put it around her shoulders, his loose black shirt left. Wrapping it about her tightly, covering her 'battle scars' and the tears in her shirt, the length of the jacket covering the small tear on her skirt's hem. Gripping her elbow, he scooped up her book bag and slung it over his shoulder and he led them out of the empty classroom – Hinata a little more grown up this time. Their footsteps echoed throughout the silent and still school that had long been deserted by many teachers and students. Gaara walked beside Hinata who had taken her book bag back and had it over her shoulders easily. Out of the corner of a black rimmed eye that was from his severe case of insomnia, he looked at a red mark across Hinata's cheek, a slap. _

_He'd be the comfort today and another day, he'd be her avenger and make them cry for making him see her tears. His head turned to the large window that the school had – it was raining. _

Gaara flicked his Zippo lighter open and stared at the flickering flame, dancing like an exotic belly dancer. His shrink or doctor or whatever sat in front of him with his hands clasped together, staring at his patient almost anticipating something. Apparently, on the inside, Gaara was a very interesting person. "It's fairly easy to guess what they wanted with her…" he trailed off, playing with his pen and immaturely launching it with his fingers and into the air. "Was she pretty at that age?" he asked a little too innocently. Gaara thought about it.

"Sometimes," he answered truthfully, relaxed while he lounged on a soft and cushy red chair with paws at the bottom as its legs. His fingers raked over the velvet fabric.

"Sometimes?" he heard his shrink ask back, and Gaara gave a short and curt nod as his answer. "When were these sometimes?" he asked now, his voice full of other questions Gaara knew he was bursting to ask. Their time was almost up. Gaara didn't answer but tipped his head back and closed his eyes, thumb flicking the lid of his lighter continuously and feeling it warm his hand. "Gaara?" Gaara grunted but did nothing else. He had enough of spilling his heart to the quack who thought too much of Hinata's and his own relationship – overrating for what it wasn't. He heard him sigh heavily before the timer went off. "Alright Gaara, next appointment is next Wednesday."

Gaara stood out of the chair and walked out, ignoring the 'good-bye' the doctor said on his way out. The door slammed shut and his long coat trailed behind.

-

The bar was seedy, suspicious and didn't care that a minor had walked into it – the place full of crooked people. Gaara stepped in, listening to the sounds of a bar fight in the back and watching two men toss each other around like rags dolls, their burly arms muscular, thick and hairy as a bear. Grey green eyes slid over to the bartender, a man with a curved moustache and wide eyes, bony in frame and a long nose like a bird's beak. "What will you have tonight? Regular, I suspect?" he inquired lightly, accent tipping in while he wiped the counter down with a rag. Gaara nodded as he slid a fifty dollar bill to the man and waited for his customary beer and whiskey shots. He rolled his head to crack his neck bones easily while he heard the man rummage beneath the counter for his drinks.

Gaara got to thinking about how it had been at Hinata's school, people picking at the shy heiress like hyenas to fresh meat they didn't have to kill. It was to be expected, the high standards that she met academically but never physically or socially. It had been that time her cousin had taken especial care to watch whatever horror show she put on for him because of some mishap between the divided Hyuuga families. It had been a fallout that had taken place…since the Hyuuga family had been established – the division that held the Main Branch were not servants and not given customary tattoos to mark them. He and Neji had never gotten along, always glaring at one another, scowling and waiting for the other to throw the first hit.

He didn't encourage Hinata to try and get along with her cousin – she did that herself and never got anything accomplished – nor did he try to correct Neji of his ways, try to get him to see that it wasn't Hinata's fault specifically. He made it clear to not step near her though, when they finally did throw hits. He'd gotten a black eye, split lip, broken wrist while Neji had his share of scrapes and a broken rib. It had been their first and last fight – the rest of the tie they guardedly watched each other, like two lions circling and facing each other up – summing up which would pounce first and how many hits they could get in on one another. He remembered what started the fight and exactly how it ended…seriously truth to be told…it had been the best fight of his life.

"Here you are, Gaara."

There was a clink of glass against the marble counter and Gaara looked up at the tall mug, frothing with tanned white of the beer. He nodded at the bartender once before gripping the mug and beginning to gulp it down quickly before he placed it back down, staring into the amber liquid while it fizzed.

"_You shouldn't drink so much Gaara…" she said while she looked down at the beer bottle in his hand. They were on his rooftop at night, the apartment complex which he was staying at and he didn't want to be in the same room with Temari and Kankurou for too long. He looked at her while he tipped the beer back into his mouth, blatantly ignoring her and she scrunched her nose at him. She never stuttered when they were alone. _

"_Hn," he grunted once more and he looked out at the moon, watching its pale face over the quiet city of Konohagakure. Hinata should have been home hours ago, but the richest man's – the Prime Minister of Suna – son invited Hinata over for dinner, so they sat there on the rooftop talking the night away and Gaara drinking. Silence engulfed them once more, before Hinata spoke again, her voice soft and pliable. She sounded breakable. _

"_Gaara?" she asked, her voice a whisper and he cocked his head in her direction. "Have you ever been in love?" she questioned, arms wrapping around her small form in a hug while she drew her knees up to rest her chin on them. Gaara placed the bottle down beside him and turned his head fully to stare at her. His black rimmed raccoon looking eyes stared at her, unaware of the way he looked. He was surprised to say the least – Hinata never asked about love. "Have you?" _

_Gaara shook his head, coming out of his shocked stupor and waited. "I-I w-well…" she blushed and looked to her side, down at the ground embarrassed by the truth she let slip. "I think I am." She whispered it, then clutched her breast where her heart was assuredly beating faster at the confession she'd said. "H-he's really nice to me you know…he fought Neji-niisan a lot when he bullied me and he stopped too…he's…blonde and loud…" she poked her fingers together in way of an old habit, staring down at her fidgeting fingers. She continued to hum and haw and mumble about this specter that was increasingly irritating to Gaara though he never met him. She was talking about a boy she'd only known for a little while and how he defended her honorably, how sweet he was – and he supposed it made him insecure. Hinata was growing up and seeing into other people – their world wasn't their world anymore. Other people were getting involved and invading ever so slowly and he supposed…he was possessive of their world. _

"_Does he like you?" he asked, his voice suddenly colder and sharper and Hinata flinched a little but her blush didn't run away. She was too distracted by this Naruto character. She bit her lip and looked down, disappointed. _

"_No…h-he likes a girl n-named Sakura," her voice was sad and downcast, like a rainy afternoon in the summer while excited children stayed inside away from the rain. Gaara stared at her a while longer and he believed he was watching Hinata grow up without him right there. Their world had suddenly becoming other people's territory…their world was fading. _

"_Let's go in and eat Hinata, up," he ordered while he tipped the last of the beer into his mouth and wiped the remnants away from his mouth before her held a hand out of help he, as was customary. She didn't notice the outstretched hand and got up on her own, dusting herself off. Gaara retracted his hand quickly and strode from her, not looking back and opening the exit door. _

_He let the beer bottle fall to the ground and heard it break. _

Gaara stared at the whiskey shot and downed it quickly, tipping his head back sharply and placing the glass down again, he nodded at the bartender who nodded back, giving a weak smile. He got up from his stool and strode from the bar; his hands in his pockets with his shoulders slumped forward slightly. He could smell alcohol on himself and he knew no one really cared – he was the fearfully tyrant's son. No one dared to question the man who had the military on his side and Gaara known for his violent outbursts and savage ways was kept a distance from the public. He looked around at the city about him and noticed a young woman in a short skirt, much like a school uniform approaching him. She went to his school, the Science teacher's pet.

"Hey," she called, hand reaching out to stroke the collar of his jacket, "wanna good ride?" she asked vulgarly, tongue licking her lips while she sidled up close to him. "Fifty for a blow and hundred for bareback, what do you say, sweets?" she purred and he looked down at her with his grey green eyes. Her own hazel ones widened suddenly, nearly tripping over herself when she finally recognized the red hair, the tattoo and the eyes. "H-holy shit – I-I-I'm so sorry I didn't…" she fled, heels clicking in the distance while she ran down the street, finally seeing who she was trying to pick up and fleeing from said monster she didn't want to deal with.

Gaara shook his head and continued to walk, taking out his lighter and flicking the top open constantly, a colored photo of his mother emblazed on the front of the lighter – custom made. He stared down at the face of a happily smiling woman who had no idea who she'd gotten involved with when she married the man of her life – his father.

The smell of jasmine and rainforests, deserts and a smile like an angel, purple eyes like a mauve row of expensive violets blinking, playfully curved at the edges while she smiled at him. _"C'mon Gaa-chan who loves you?" _

-

Please drop a review, I got inspiration and I decided to rewrite BSF – and hopefully it will be easier to write. So, I hope you like this version as well. X)


	3. Chapter 3

_Black Sugar Fest_

_Chapter Three: Requiem's lullaby_

**WARNING**: This story will have (occasionally) immature sex partners at times though brief and aren't dissected as anything but vague. Not like giggly immature or anything-but UNDERAGE. It will also be…a lot more vulgar in scenes (sometimes) than anything else-I swear. Beware (it rhymes!). And…don't say I didn't warn you, ne? It's in capital and bold print. Please…READ the warning before proceeding, thankies.

XxX

_Gaara giggled, where was his mommy? She was probably playing hide 'n seek again -s he always did that and she'd always, always jump out of nowhere from a corner when his father dropped him off at the house where she lived (_she was confined but little Gaara didn't know that just yet_). She was so silly, sometimes…more fun than Temari and Kankurou to be sure though. At age six Gaara wasn't a liked character, no…his father and uncle Yashamaru believed he was too much like his mother. They didn't like him around his siblings and other children in general. It didn't matter though, as Gaara's brain processed it, his mommy was the only person he ever needed. She played with him, cooked for him, and sang him to sleep. She wasn't allowed to go near Temari and Kankurou either, he noticed, but for him it was for the best. Then those two would gobble up all her attention. _

_Not like they would though, they had uncle Yashamaru and that woman who always followed his father around, batting her eyes up at him. He didn't like her that much, whenever she was near, his mommy didn't like to play and would only hide herself in a corner and cry. Dry rasping and heavy heaving as she cried. He always hugged her to make her feel better, she'd look happier when his father came in once a day but then would look away when he'd only hand her white objects the size of a pinky nail which she would then swallow before watching him leave the room sadly. _

_His grip tightened on his teddy bear, a big one that his mother had stuffed in his arms one night and had laughed when he'd stared at it with a wide smile. He looked down the hall and saw a particular door creak on its hinges. He giggled a little again-she left the door open. He tip toed quietly down the hall, looking for his silly, silly momma. With careful fingers he pushed the door open, stiffening at the sound of a loud, long creak that would surely give his entrance away. Nothing happened and he relaxed. Wide grey green eyes already marked with black lines of insomnia searched the room, finally resting on the slightly open almost beckoning door of the walk in closet. _

_He stuffed a fist in his mouth to stifle the laugh bubbling up and his fingers clutched onto the hand of his teddy bear a little tighter. He'd get her this time! She'd never suspect him and then she'd just smile and laugh while hugging him close to her chest, still laughing herself like an asinine child. With a quick motion, his arm flung the closet door open, "Boo!" _

_A pale, drawn face met his eyes, arms hanging limply at her sides, feet not touching the floor and froth that had gathered at the corners of her mouth was drying. Eyes up rolled and a sickly egg white color, her mouth hung open a little. A rope was slung tightly around her neck and went up into the depths of the closet. Gaara's eyes widened and his grip on his teddy slackened till the bear dropped to the floor. "M-mommy?" there was no answer from the woman before him. _

_Tiny pudgy hands reached out and tugged at her lavender skirt desperately, "Mommy?! S-stop it! You're not being f-f-funny! Come down!" he continued to tug, childish fingers tugged at the material of her clean skirt. He started screaming, "Come down! Come down, come down stop it!" he fisted his hands into her skirt and buried his face into her left leg, sobbing for his mommy to stop playing this game. "I don't like it-st-stop playing mommy…I don't like this game." Night was approaching though Gaara never moved from his mother, still clutching at her and he reached up to take her hand like he always did when it was nearly bedtime - she'd probably stop playing the game once he did that right? All games stopped before bedtime. His fingers wound around hers, clasping hers tightly. It was so cold_.

Gaara's closed eyes snapped open in the darkness while he sat up quickly, hand reaching for a teddy bear that wouldn't be there. His nostrils flared as his lungs sucked in air greedily, as though he was suffocating and there wasn't enough air to last around him. Cold sweat had beaded on his temples, soaking his hair with the salty liquid. His heart thudded in apprehension and he slipped out of the bed only in a pair of baggy old work trousers. Looking over at the clock, it read two thirty. It was bloody miracle – he's slept for two and half hours. Running a hand through his hair before her staggered to the door, he opened it quietly, feet padding down the hallway. He felt déjà vu rip through him like a bucket of cold water on a sleeping person or a pinch to a constant day dreamer. A small boy who loved his mother so much used to run down these halls, either being chased by a blonde woman or chasing her. His hair was red and his eyes were a greenish color – he smiled a lot, a shy smile of course, and didn't care for anyone else except that blonde woman who called herself, 'Mama monster'.

He walked down the hall and he almost felt as though it was tipping to the side, warping to a twisted dimension where only dark memories lingered and the dying scent of jasmines stayed. He stopped at her door, hand poised to turn the knob. His fingers closed around the golden knob and turned it slowly, hearing it creak in response while he pushed the door open to stand out of it, looking into the room. The room was never to be touched by anyone, the one time Kankurou had wanted to see what sort of jewelry their late mother had kept, a ten year old Gaara had beat up his older brother, growling obscenities and clawing at him, snapping sharp teeth at his skin when he saw Kankurou going through her jewelry, messing up the order she had left it in. Kankurou strayed from Gaara for a month, not bothering to even look at his younger sibling.

Her neat bed was tucked into a corner, where sunlight could hit the edges but not quite blanket her in its eternal warmth. Her jewelry chest was kept near her bed, necklaces hung and rings and earrings were stuffed into small cupboards. Her closet…the walk in closet which held so many pretty gowns and jackets and shirts – Gaara himself always had to look in it whenever he dreamt of his mother, making sure she wasn't hanging there even though in his subconscious he knew she wasn't there. He just couldn't leave her there if she was there again. Walking into the room and feeling a plethora of unwelcome emotions. No matter where he went, what he thought or did – the memory of his mother would always haunt him. Her ghost screaming in his ear silently when he wandered through the town alone, fingering his lighter. Her wretched sobs wracking through him while he stared at his father, gaze narrowing without his knowing.

His mother had been a disturbed woman, prone to staring at nothing for hours on end and Gaara would merely sit in front of him and watch her gaze off. She had been suicidal for years, depression and sudden shifts in her mood made her dangerous yet she never did anything to Gaara. She never even yelled at him before. He had though, watched her sneak outside one night after tucking him into bed. A cheap liquor store lighter in her hand a bottle of sickly sweet alcohol clutched in her hands. He followed her silently, watching her travel through the town like a forgotten ghost, brushing past people and they never even seemed to see her. He watched her stop at a single large house, her thumb readily flicking her lighter at hand. The hand holding the bottle twitched and she approached the large house, coming closer to it before screaming inhumanely at it. The cap of the bottle was popped off and she tore her shirt a bit, lighting the cloth on fire before dipping it into the alcohol.

The bottle sailed through the air and crashed through the window where it coincidentally clashed with numerous electrical wires that also caught on fire. Gaara had held his hands to his mouth, to keep from gasping when two people ran out. His father clad in only boxers and the woman he didn't like in only a blanket. _"Bastard! Lying, cheating bastard! Whore!"_ she screamed, then breaking down to her knees and laughing and crying all at once. He watched her at first bury her head in her hands, then roll her head so she was cackling madly while tears still streamed down her cheeks and wetting them with slick fluid.

It had been his first vision of beauty, that fire – where his mother had turned into a monster capable of many things for she had spotted him then looked over at the two people nearly naked. He had watched her scowl at them, spitting venomous curses at them before scooping him up in her thinly frail looking arms that were suddenly so strong. She whispered in his ear that she loved him, she'd only love him anymore since his father had turned her two other children against her.

He listened to her partially, looking over her shoulder at the huge fire that had begun to roar hungrily, like a living creature it devoured the entire house. That night, when she had tucked him into her bed with her, he dreamt of red, orange and yellow – he dreamt of grotesquely formed feathers and a wickedly curved beak. He dreamt of the creature in the fire – the one with the white hot eyes with a bottomless stomach.

Gaara shook the memories from his head, hand reaching out to wipe the dust that had collected at the top of her cherry wood chest of jewelry. He heard a small boy giggling while his mother blew large raspberries on his stomach, when she made weirdly funny faces or when she ate too many hot cookies she made and all she did was lie on her back, groaning when he poked at her rounded belly. He heard a mother who smiled in the face of the sun, in front of her son and turned into a harpy with a taste for human flesh at night, in the light of the fire. He could smell jasmines and the acrid scent of sedatives when his father ordered doctors to take her away for weeks at a time.

Human hands formed poor looking claws and she growled though it sounded like a content purr of a cat, "_Run Gaa-chan, mama monster's coming after you!_" she would have said while chasing him around the house for his bath, that he, like any other small child would resist vehemently unless it was turned into a game.

He heard a hesitant knock on the hallway wall that made him twitch before her turned to it, "Gaara?" he heard Temari call out softly. "Um…are you okay?" Gaara stared at the picture of his mother and he, him being swung from side to side in the arms of his smiling mother. In return he grunted loud enough for Temari to hear, "Are you hungry or something?" he didn't reply and his fingers touched the face of his photographed mother behind a small wall of glass. She spoke once more, though it was softer this time, "It's almost Mother's Day Gaara." He knew it was almost Mother's Day – he never forgot that day, his mother's birthday and Hinata's birth date. He had them circled on his calendar on his room near his bed.

He heard Temari walk away slowly, as though waiting for him to answer her before he no longer heard her footsteps. _"Leaves of my youth are like autumn and you, you are like my winter…be my winter till I cannot rise to dawn chores and you will be spring forevermore…I'm sure if you listen carefully, you will hear coin in my purse and hear my weeping…but don't fret, our berry of luck will be the holly…" _

He could hear her lullaby for putting him to sleep in his ears, and his hand went up to cradle his head when it throbbed like a sickening tumor in the back of his mind. The poisonous lullaby she'd created for him and while he loved her so much, he hated her just a bit just for those words of death and venom. The lullaby she'd made for him and only him – just for him and he felt so special at her words that struck chords in his heart, wracking him like an earthquake beneath his unsteady feet. At times, he could still hear her whisper words of love of him and the hate she'd long ago contaminated him with against his father, people of Suna who did nothing to help her and the world. The toxic nourishment of her hate poisoned him long ago, spread to the world for her memory to live on through him and her love for him that he never would forget.

Gaara shook his head and stumbled to the door, shutting it quietly on his way out. He didn't want to hear her voice in his head anymore right now.

"_Who loves you Gaa-chan?" _

-

Why don't y'all tell me how you liked my little lullaby I made…This chapter's main purpose is to signify why exactly (or give out major clues) as to why Gaara is the way he is and to explain a little family history.

A few people mentioned that they liked how dark and depressing and realistic my stories are and I have to ask…if they're emo/unrealistic sounding…please hit me a lot…while I read and review a LOT of OOC stories…I hate me making them OOC…pet peeve. While yes, this story, Demon's Ball and the finale of Red Sun Rising will be finished (all on separate times of course) don't rush me. I'm a freshman in a junior's class where all there IS are juniors and that teacher gives a lot of work and currently, we're having to make a magazine. So, on top of Math and Spanish mostly, please be patient.

And you know the drill, review only if you liked it or criticism…


	4. Chapter 4

_Black Sugar Fest_

_Chapter Four: Desert lily_

**WARNING**: This story will have (occasionally) immature sex partners at times though brief and aren't dissected as anything but vague. Not like giggly immature or anything-but UNDERAGE. It will also be…a lot more vulgar in scenes (sometimes) than anything else-I swear. Beware (it rhymes!). And…don't say I didn't warn you, ne? It's in capital and bold print. Please…READ the warning before proceeding, thankies.

XxX

Hinata nodded as she began to fall into a sleepy hazed like state in the middle of the dreary documentary video in history class. However, her eyes snapped open when someone dug something sharp into her ribs. "Hinata – wake, Mr. Nakamura is staring at you!" Ino hissed as she retracted her deadly finger with a samurai sword as an index nail. When Hinata turned to dare a glance at her young history teacher, he was indeed staring at her. Gulping, she returned to her notes but then blinked when bright lights lit the rook up painfully. A student had turned the video off and Mr. Nakamura stood. "We will finish the video the next time we meet," he spoke, ignoring the whines and groans throughout his classroom. The bell rung and students stood, grabbing backpacks and binders before setting off for the door. Hinata stood and shouldered her book bag. "Hinata," she froze at his voice. "I'd like to speak with you, now preferably."

Biting her bottom lip, she strode back to her teacher who currently had his arms crossed over his chest. Keeping her head bowed respectively, "Y-yes Mr. Nakamura?" she said softly. A finger curled around her chin and forced her to look up. Hinata blushed at the contact and tried to move away subtly. Her teacher kept a firm grip on her chin however.

"Hinata, do try not to fall asleep next time, hm?" he scolded lightly, amusement in his eyes with a little smile on his face. Unlike the rest of her teachers, Nakamura made her the most uncomfortable, with that easy and suave smile. She squirmed under his gaze which had grown something warmer, lids half hooding his eyes. Nakamura, while young and charming, easy going had rather nasty rumors floating around him. Skirt chaser, cradle robber…all of those charming adjectives rolled into one. He'd had innocent virgins deluding themselves that they were in love or students who were fresh out of or currently in relationships.

"Y-yes, M-Mr.…" she cut herself off when he flattened his palm over her cheek, sliding it behind her ear, tucking it behind her curtain of shoulder length hair. A squeak came out, a frightened mouse caught beneath a grinning cat's paw and she could feel the claws digging in. She couldn't move, speak and her body froze up like a tree in the winter. His thumb tapped at her skin, leaning in closer.

"Hinata…" he purred, moving closer and she needed space – now, now, now! Where was everyone? Her heart was pounding and she felt the world close in on her, churning around her and she felt that the floor was swirling below her. She felt nauseous. "Why are you so shy?" he asked, leaning in closer and she felt another hand come up to tug on her grey wool inner lined jacket from Gaara – it was getting tight around her front. "Or…are you just shy in the face of the public?" the zipper was tugged down and Hinata began to tremble. Fright had always left her immobile – it was a repeat of the seventh grade but this time, he was a teacher and he could press charges if she decided to fight back and could possibly leave a mark…who would believe a kid after all?

"Mr. Nakamura, did it suddenly become legal to feel up your students when they're too scared to even breathe?" a cold voice interrupted them and her history stopped his explorations when his hand began to wander underneath her shirt. His brown eyes snapped up and Hinata turned, taking this moment to move quickly away from the teacher while opportunity presented itself. Spiky dark locks of hair stuck up from the arrogantly tilted head and she looked back at the pitch black eyes of the one and only Uchiha Sasuke. She blinked at him and he made a motion with his head to get out of the classroom. Hand clenching her book bag, with her other free hand she zipped her jacket up modestly and scurried behind the Uchiha who had been leaning against the door frame. She brushed past him and heard what he said next, "Blackmail is for idiots who can't do anything else logically – do yourself and the Hyuuga a favor and keep your grimy hands to yourself." With that he turned on his heel and strode away. Hinata stared at him widely and he looked down at her, scowling then. "Don't be an idiot and let guys feel you up like that – you let one get to you and then you're easy."

With those words of wisdom, he walked down the empty hall and she watched the fan emblem that represented his decimated family disappear. She wondered what he had needed to come back for…looking his way once more, she turned to the opposite way and began her walk home. Uchiha Sasuke, for as long as he'd been in her classes (which he had coincidentally been in most of her classes on at least on her group table or sitting next to her in a row), he had always been an enigma. Hinata tucked a strand behind her ear, and she knew him a bit since he was best friends (she believed) with Uzumaki Naruto…

Even if he was cold and harsh, curt and short with people – this encounter proved he had a good side. She didn't want to dwell on what would have happened to her due to her own weakness if he hadn't come back to class. She tugged at the sleeve of her jacket gently and turned to looked at the rectangular window that had bars running horizontally and vertically by spans of three feet apart. It was raining outside. Her thumb ran repeatedly over a sewn in heart with cross bones over it – she was missing him again. A smile slowly spread across her features, lighting her up pleasantly.

"_I hardly ever sleep." He stated firmly, not looking at her and swirling the beer within the beer bottle he'd stolen from the store. His eyes were trained on the liquid within the bottle and she sat next to him, nearly touching and he listened to her talk about her dreams quietly. "So I don't dream…even when I do sleep, I don't dream – I just remember." She waited for him to finish what he was saying, knew he had a fogged point he was making from his close mind that didn't allow much contact. His head tipped back and the lip of the bottle was pressed against his mouth and she watched the liquid drain away. It was almost gone and she fought the urge to frown at him. _

"_What do y-you remember?" she questioned innocently and he stared out at the stars from where they were sitting on her bed through a large open window. She waited while his eyes scanned the darkness, pondering whatever he did ponder within his mind – the mind that contemplated everything and analyzed everything yet he did whatever he felt was fine or right to him. Unlike her, he didn't care of other people's judgments, didn't care what was said of him because no one had really ever given him second thoughts. He listened to her though, cared but went by what was right by him nonetheless. _

_She watched his eyes grow soft and almost watery, staring at the dim light of the moon. The eyes that had captivated many girls and including her, for they were endless and had to beginning or end, like space, like time - like death; his eyes would forever remain elusive and all she would see was the reflection of everything much like a doll's blank stare. Gaara was alive, reflected on many things, had theories and thought about his purpose and wishes more than society's morals. It was just his environment was so much different from hers that it completely alienated him from so many people – even her at times. She may not understand, but she was patient if anything. "My mother." He said suddenly, a whisper in the dark that surrounded them. _

_She opened her mouth to reply, but he continued unexpectedly, "I loved her…and that's why I am the way I am. She would've wanted me this way. She couldn't be this way, so I will be her last lifeline here." He continued and she listened, interested by what this larger than life sized jig saw puzzle was offering as minimal clues. _

_Hinata sighed and nodded, accepting what she could gobble up from him as a good enough for now answer till he felt like opening up from his protective covering from the world. "I think about my mother too. She had long hair, but she was never…really here, here. She was off somewhere where the sky was purple and all flowers were pretty and smelled nice. She was never really there with us." She said, picking at the cuff of her flannel pajama button up shirt while she spoke. Gaara had his head cocked her way so she knew he was listening and she continued, "She loved flowers, you know – especially orchids. So that's why…I grow them…when I see them, I feel close to her, you know?" _

_Gaara was silent, for a long while, pondering while staring into the bottle at what was left of his beverage. His eyes narrowed and he rummaged in his coat pocket, fishing out his light and almost glaring at it before his eyes gained a lucid gaze. He trailed off; staring at the lighter like it was a fascinating underwater specimen. Memories had bombarded him like a hurricane and she watched him. What did he think? Who was his mother? The glazed look in his eyes spoke volumes of different things all at once and Hinata was slightly fearful at what exactly those things may just be. What lay within the mind of Sabaku Gaara – a mother who was never able to raise him, a father who despised his existence and siblings who saw so many ugly, hurtful things in his orbs where dwelled something of unimaginable size and capable of so much. Potential for something Hinata didn't want to ponder. _

_She shifted a little closer to him when the wind picked and she ignored the slight retreat from Gaara who had never been comfortable with intimacy or any sort of contact. Hinata herself wasn't comfortable with it but she didn't find it…meaning to hurt, she was just touchy she supposed. Gaara, she'd seen the scars on his skin from his father, the bleeding cuts he only let her bandage. She remembered when she saw not a single mark on his skin, unmarred and he'd brought two beers, one in each hand and there was no smile, saying of celebration. He had just handed her one silently and nodded his head to her, she hadn't understood until she saw a small smirk on his lips. She wouldn't be worried about the problems between he and his father – Gaara…had always been self sufficient and this was no different of a situation. She didn't ask and only took the first sip with him, coughing almost immediately after by the acrid taste she wasn't used to. It burned, but it was almost…nice. _

"_Sorry," she whispered. Gaara shrugged a shoulder carelessly and allowed her to move a little closer, sharing a bit of his body heat with her already cold body. Awkward quiet enclosed on them just like night, leaving them with an unpleasant wool sweater wrapped around their shoulders. Hinata spoke up once more, "Do you think they're watching over us?" she waited for a reply and heard only his reassuring breaths. The night was cold and he let her scoot closer even though she had blankets covering her partially. _

_Gaara didn't answer her as he stared out her window and Hinata didn't prod for answers while they stayed up until the pink hues of dawn were scrawled across the sky like paint splashed messily on it or spilled on an empty canvas. _

_He left through the window and climbed down the tree like a cat, leaving behind his beer bottle and his smell in her room. _

_Gaara…never did answer that question_.

Gaara, she learned over the years, was possessive of everything his late mother had left behind. Her clothes, all classy in their own way, were folded neatly in her drawers and coats and dresses still hung in the closet Gaara had found her in. The jewelry, she knew, he kept all shiny and perfectly in fine condition never took them out of the box Karura had kept them in. Gaara never let his brother, sister or father or herself even touch anything of his mother's, hated anyone entering her room at all. The rouge, blush, lipstick and all makeup accessories she left behind were still tucked away in a bathroom exactly as she left it.

Hinata held her book bag close to her while she walked down the empty hallway, feeling disoriented in thought and memory. Her redheaded associate had lived with the scent of orange lilies all his life. It had been the custom made perfume his mother had always worn – he himself would wear it. Hinata…could never fully understand the length of which Gaara missed her, at times he would speak of her indifferently, other times his tone was full of loathing and sometimes…it was so full of longing and loneliness she felt like weeping for him. She had seen him put it on once, press his finger on his wrists and neck – when she caught him he merely stared back and shrugged one shoulder almost unnoticeably. He must still order it because the last time she was there, the perfume bottle that had belonged to his mother had almost been empty. She remembered what he smelled like when he wore it, just a touch and it was faint, barely there but it would blend and contrast deeply with his own scent.

Orange lilies…lilies.

"_W-why do you s-smell…weird?" she asked her friend, fingers digging into her long plaited skirt and the redhead beside her cast her an irritated glance. She winced but mumbled her question again. Her fingers played with the cloth and tugged at the ends of her hair uncertainly. She bit and chewed on her lips while she shifted beside her friend. _

"_It's my mother's perfume," he said without shame that he was in fact wearing 'something women only wore' as her father had always put it, as Neji put it, as all the other boys and males she knew in general that this was a fact. She stared at his profile while she dragged her feet beneath her on the swing, the empty playground seeming surreal in the reddish hue of dusk approaching. Gaara himself was on the swing beside her, swinging lightly while his feet kicked gently, the pair of eleven year olds stayed in silence for but a few moments before Hinata spoke up once more._

"_W-why are you w-wearing it?" she asked in a hushed tone, eyes looking up at him through her thick lashes and long bangs. His eye roamed to look at her, out of the corner of his socket he stared at her for a moment. _

"_It belonged to my mother." He said it with such force and finality that it seemed as though that explanation would satisfy her curiosity, as though this was a thing normal boys did. Her nose twitched when a small gust of wind picked up and the scent of something unidentifiable was carried to her. _

"_F-father said…f-father said boys d-don't wear p-p-perfume," she carried on hesitantly, afraid she was going to insult her moody friend, but it seemed her worries and caution went unheeded. The redhead turned towards her in a snap and his eyes narrowed at her. She bit her lip and winced, as though facing a too bright light. _

"_My mother wore it – so I'm wearing it." He spat, knuckles white where he clutched at the chains that bound the swing. Hinata stared at him and felt her lips twitch. A slow smile spread over her face and soon she was beaming at the angered redhead. "What?" he snapped at her happy face. Hinata winced but kept her shy smile on. _

"_I…I like i-it," she whispered, eyes on the ground once more and she watched the toe of her sandal dig into the dirt shyly. They flicked up again and Gaara was sliding off his swing. Hinata's eyes widened in horror that she offended him – perhaps he thought she was mocking him. "G-Gaara!" she called out. No avail and besides, he was coming closer to her. His hair shined in the sun brilliantly, blood gleaming wickedly within golden rays. He stood in front of her and he wasn't much taller than she; barely half an inch, but it nonetheless intimidated her. He stared down at her impassively while she looked up with a slightly gaping mouth and wide eyes. He held out his hand and she winced, curling up on herself like a little armadillo for fear of being slapped. Her eyes squeezed shut while she awaited the blow. _

_Moments passed and Hinata's left eye cracked open to see pale flesh right in front of her. Her other eye opened and she recognized it as Gaara's wrist. She inhaled, feeling she was able to breathe once more, and a peculiar scent washed over her senses – Gaara and something else. She inhaled again and tried to find within her memory what the scent was. It was pleasant and calming, like a balm for aching bruises or sores. "W-what is i-it?" she asked politely as possible. Gaara's arm returned to his side and he looked up at sky, as though ignoring her innocent and sincere question. _

"_Lilies. She always wore it." he muttered back before his eyes turned back to her and his hand was held out. She took it and stood, going to walk beside him as the sun set, casting shades of rose and crème across the sky like paint splotches on a blank canvas_.

Hinata exited the nearly empty building of her school and smiled to herself. She had never understood on a complete level as to why Gaara wore perfume, the perfume his mother had always worn, until a couple years ago. On some level of longing for his long dead mother, the one who took care of him when the rest of his family had shunned him for the conditions he had had early on his life, he unconsciously tried bringing back whatever form of her he could. The few pictures of her in the house were still in fantastic condition, her belongings and the fact that he wore her perfume, continuously buying more (as she suspected, never really seeing him buying it herself) of the chemically made scent. He missed her dearly; and it was that part of him that made Hinata feel extremely sorry for him, that huge need to hug him and possibly suffocate him in the enormous depths of the back crushing hug. All the males she knew were not close to their mothers in any way, distancing themselves from the women who had always been in their lives to the girls they fawned and imagined themselves infatuated or in lust with. She wondered briefly what Gaara would be like. Would he hardly ever leave his mother's side? Would they even have known each other, much less be friends?

It was something she often found herself pondering, what would life have been like for Gaara had his mother not hung herself in the closet when Gaara went to look for her during hide and seek. It was a question she doubted she could answer.

She was pulled from her thoughts when a car honked and she scolded herself to walk faster or else her father would be displeased with her once more for her tardiness in planning for the annual masquerade ball the Hyuugas were going to put up once more. Her legs walked faster and above her, the distant rumble of thunder caught her attention as well. Her hair was plastered to her head from the continual fall of rain, clothes left soaking. She moved along faster, ducking beneath the height of buildings while she hurried along.

Like clockwork, she remember what Sasuke had done for her and thought of what she could do to repay the kind deed he'd done for her. Maybe she'd make him breakfast, considering he always seemed to be buying the school food they served instead. The thunder growled again and a flash indicated lightning. Hinata quickened her steps to a light jog.

-

Yeah…Gaara wears perfume in my story but it's not because he's femmish (maybe a little, but not in THAT way). While I have nothing against guys being feminine – that's not the point for Gaara; it serves a greater purpose and you need to figure it out. It belongs to his mother and he's got a complex. Not hard. It's one of the MANY things wrong with him in this story. XD

Haha! Surprise! New addition of characters and a couple things…this story won't be without a few bumps for Gaara and Hinata…:) Enjoy and please leave me a review if you liked it. Tell me what's wrong with Gaara (in this chapter) because yes, I'd like to know if I'm being clear enough or whatever.


	5. Chapter 5

_Black Sugar Fest_

_Chapter Five: Soul in a scarf_

**WARNING**: This story will have (occasionally) immature sex partners at times though brief and aren't dissected as anything but vague. Not like giggly immature or anything-but UNDERAGE. It will also be…a lot more vulgar in scenes (sometimes) than anything else-I swear. Beware (it rhymes!). And…don't say I didn't warn you, ne? It's in capital and bold print. Please…READ the warning before proceeding, thankies.

XxX

Hinata nudged the soil beneath her sandal with a pointed toe, purposely not meeting the other's black coal eyes. Sasuke looked down at the bento box set before him and up at the shy Hyuuga girl who avoided contact with people altogether. "I d-didn't get to t-thank you for…y-you know." She stared undeterred at her feet in shame and embarrassment for approaching the Uchiha. Sasuke continued to stare at Hinata and she repressed an aggravated shiver down her back – people who stared at her for too long triggered an old reaction in the back of her mind which she was never able to rid herself of. She bit her lip – Gaara was usually the one who helped repress that shiver; with his presence and the utter given knowledge that he would stand at her side and never leave her.

"Your father sent an invitation to the masquerade ball," he said blandly, sounding almost exasperated. Hinata blinked – she hadn't been the one to send out the invitations this year so she hadn't known that the last Uchiha would be invited though it was to be expected because his family held such high regard in the political world. So, Hinata merely nodded slowly, hesitantly. "Tell him I'm going."

Hinata stared at her feet, hearing the boy shift his weight and get up from his lone bench beneath a tree. A shadow covered her and she looked up instinctively, withdrawing slightly from the dark gaze. She didn't notice how they may have looked to outsiders looking in on their private bubble; maybe a girl proclaiming her affection to the infamous heartbreaker who loved no one, or a boy attempting to gain her attention via intimidation. He stared down at her, leaning some of his weight on one hip with his hand stuffed in one pocket. The sun was in her eyes and it warmed her; her nose crinkled and she realized that Sasuke didn't smell of cedar, or sandalwood or something earthy or sweet – he smelled like tomatoes.

"A-alright," she agreed quietly.

Sasuke looked away from her and down at the bento box before sitting back down on his bench and opening the lid. The chopsticks within it were black lacquered. Picking them up, he began shoveling egg, potatoes and rice into his mouth. A small thermos contained soup and cherry tomatoes were bundled up in the far corner of his small breakfast. Biting her lip, Hinata turned to stride away, "You don't have to leave." She looked over her shoulder to see that Sasuke wasn't even looking her way, still eating his breakfast. She stared to see if it had just been her imagination before slowly turning away once more; insecurity without her wall of fire (1) to guard her from this stranger. There was nothing wrong with making friends or getting to know the person who saved you more; but there wasn't anything wrong with him but rather it was never his fault to begin with – it was of her own. Girls hissed at her behind her back, calling her horrible names and some spitting at her, twisting or pulling on her hair enough to rip out strands.

She hugged the tight jacket closer to her, allowing it to envelop her much like a human hug and felt a missing tug in her chest – like the loss of a limb.

"_Y-you pr-promise n-no-no one will find u-us, r-right?" a meek voice said in the dark, a small girl child whose wrist was held tightly in a boy's hand. The girl cast a quick glance behind her to see if those bigger bullies had trailed them here, fright clouded her gaze. The redhead glanced back at her with a narrow eyed glare. _

"_Yes," he hissed, tugging her lower and they did a crouching sort of walk behind the ghostly playground's giant red slide. Crouching over the wet muck beneath him, Gaara stared out in the dark, Hinata beside him with her little shoulders shaking. He glanced over at her when she moved closer, shoulder bumping his and arms wound tightly around his right arm. _

"_I-I'm cold," she whispered, curling in on him like a little armadillo. Shudders that wracked her frame also affected him and Gaara frowned. _

"_You have a jacket," he hissed, annoyed with the girl he had declared as his best friend (secretly) a few weeks ago. Hinata sniffled an apology and Gaara shifted from his jacket. Zipping the black fabric down the middle with its zipper, and tugged cold hands in. Hinata gave a startled yelp but settled her hands on a warmed black shirt. The feeling of more warmth made Hinata withhold a sigh of content before fingers scuttled beneath Gaara's shirt. He hissed and jumped when fingers as cold as those in death touched his skin and lingered, sucking warmth from him like a parasitic leech. "What are you doing?" he snarled, fingers hooking around hers to tug them from his flesh. _

_Hinata snatched her hands and cradled them to her, scandalized at what she'd done and frightened of whatever consequence awaited her. She braced herself and found nothing. Gaara was merely glaring at her with a gaze of hot coals. "S-s-sorry." _

_He stared, blankly then and looked away. She felt fingers wrap around her wrists and she knew – he was going to make them hurt – maybe try to break them. There were sounds of fabric flapping open and then there was warmth – submerged in it as though touching a heater. Hinata opened her eyes (she hadn't realized she had them closed) and her hands were over his stomach. "Get a bigger jacket." He grumbled, but other than that he didn't seem to be overly irritated or angry. Pale, dead fish belly eyes met Gaara's grey green ones and Hinata found a tiny smile curling her lips upwards. She rounded in closer to the boy, content with the heat he was giving off like a campfire. _

_She whispered a thank you in the darkness to her friend who said nothing in reply_.

Hinata stared ahead of her to the building's back wall blankly, looking at the girls who were holding her book bag upside down and shaking all of its contents from it. Two others held her arms behind her though she didn't struggle. One pinched her cheek and dug nails in, "What's wrong, cat shit? Can't talk to us? You seemed fine with talking with Sasuke-kun," she hissed, her long and reptilian skin painted nails dug into her skin, bringing up bloodspots beneath Hinata's skin, purpling and reddening them. Hinata hung rather limply in their grip, knowing it would be useless to struggle considering the fact that they ran in packs and she liked to avoid conflict altogether. One girl who was holding her bag dug in deep and fished out a long lengthy white strip of cloth. Hinata's breath caught in her throat.

"What the fuck is this?" the girl holding it questioned, holding it at arms' length and giving it an eye Hinata didn't like. The pale eyed girl stared at the one holding the cloth, "It's a scarf." She stated, identifying the clothing and rubbing it against her cheek, "Mm, soft too. For a shitty slut you've got nice taste, cat shit." She commented, winding the cloth around her neck and taking a pose. "You like?" she wrinkled her nose. "Never would've complemented you – you're too pale." Hinata watched her tug on the soft and thick fabric. An animalistic sort of sound wrenched from her throat, torn between a high pitched whine and a low huff of frustration. Hinata lunged forward to grab at the cloth but the two girls behind her kept a firm grip and their nails dug in. The one with the scarf over her raised her brows, "What's this, cat shit, you don't like to share?" her eyes narrowed. "What a bitch."

"G-give it back!" she snapped, entirely avoiding the insult.

Nails raked across her cheek and left deep red marks and purpled bloodspots. "Oh-ho-ho! Look who's got a mouth on her." The girl flipped the scarf over her neck again, toying with it. Her lips stretched and the girl beside her looked at Hinata with the same grin. "If Sasuke-kun won't make her scream, how 'bout we do?"

Hinata tensed and the girls gripped her, harder. One reached forward and tore her jacket, nails slicing through the old material and they pinched at her flesh. Hinata yelped when one pinch drew blood. They tugged at her pants and laughed at her, ridiculing the plain girl with dead looking eyes. Twisting hair and pinching at her chest, thumbs nails catching sensitive parts and pulling. Hinata screamed.

"What's going on?" a cold, dark and always emotionless voice asked. The girls turned and their hands fell away from Hinata like she was some grotesque little animal with a deadly disease.

"Nothing, Sas-"

A glare silenced her and he stared at Hinata, her torn clothes, ruined jacket and the papers strewn across the ground. "Get lost." The girls cast looks at Hinata, angry ones before they turned to walk off. Hinata gripped the wrist of the one who still had the white scarf wound around her neck. The girl stopped and looked down at Hinata with a sneer on her lips.

"G-give that b-back." Hinata's fingers unconsciously squeezed tighter and the girl jerked back in surprise. "N-Now," Hinata's eyes were on the white scarf, never leaving it while it flapped lazily in the wind.

The girl opened her mouth nastily, before casting a look back over at Sasuke, "Tch, here." Fingers undid it and dropped it on the ground carelessly. Hinata let her wrist go and reached over quickly to grasp the cloth, holding it to her chest as though cradling it. She swooped down at and hissed in Hinata's ear. "Watch your back, cause no one else will, cat shit." A beguiling, seductive turn of her lips was thrown at Sasuke who stared stonily back as all the girls wandered off to continue ditching their classes.

"You're an idiot." He said, cocking his head at her with a scowl fit over his mouth. Hinata's eyes had tears in them though she had them downcast, not wanting to show her shame. Her fingers tightened around the long scarf. She nearly gagged at the cheap perfume on it.

"I-I know."

Sasuke leaned his weight on one hip again, glaring at her before huffing and ruffling his hair with a hand. Crouching down, he began picking up papers and stuffing them in her book bag. Her textbooks and school accessories were stuffed in her bag as well and Hinata looked up to watch him do so. "W-What a-are you d-doing?"she asked, almost afraid of the answer. Sasuke froze with her bag in one hand and a pen in the other.

"Doing this for you since you seem incapable of it," he sent a dark eyed glare at her and Hinata flinched at it, winding her fingers in the cloth. Sasuke's eyes dropped down to the fabric, "What's so special about it?" he indicated it with a nudge of his chin.

Hinata's eyes lowered and fingernails scraped over the soft, thick and warm fabric. Why was it so special? What was so great about it? It was plain, white and not a fantastic sight to behold considering fashion or anything – it had something much more meaningful.

"_Gaara?" the thirteen year old swung her legs over the side of the building roof top they were on. The redhead turned his attention to her, eyes lazily lidded from a small buzz from the alcohol he had already consumed. _

"_Hn?" he looked like a fuzzy animal that woke up with a messy head of hair, rather content look staring back at the pale eyed girl. _

"…_Remember what father said, about this not being healthy?" she asked, turning to her redheaded friend. He nodded and she went on, "I don't think…I-I don't think…" her face scrunched up and her large eyes crinkled up, tearing already. "W-we'll s-see each o-other for a l-long t-time," she hiccupped and tears fell from her eyes, slicking her cheeks with small tears. _

_Gaara stared back, all contentedness gone and entered seriousness with ire. He stared at her and furrowed his hairless brows, "Then don't think." He replied, grey green eyes narrowed on her small figure. Hinata hiccoughed and she looked at her friend. _

"_W-what?" _

"_You think too much. If we can't see each other, doesn't mean we won't be able to, idiot." Gaara's tongue was always just a little looser when he had quite a few to drink, the evidence of empty beer bottles scattered around them. Hinata stared at Gaara in what he knew was disbelief and doubt so he stared back at her with his frustration rising. "Here," he unwound the sash that wound around his waist, "Keep it," he held it out to her. Hinata took the scarf from him with slightly trembling fingers. Hinata's eyes asked a question she didn't voice aloud and Gaara turned to look at the nearly full moon. He gave no explanation and Hinata truly believed he was totally sloshed. The beer bottle beside him was picked up and tipped back, welcoming the liquid into a waiting mouth. _

"_G-Gaara?" she asked a while later, when her hiccups and near silent crying had died down. He cocked his head slightly to the side to indicate he was listening. "T-they wouldn't do anything d-drastic to keep us apart…would they?" _

_Gaara turned to her, eyes lazy and mouth relaxed. "Let's go to bed." Hinata blinked at him before standing up as well; beside her friend who threw his last beer bottle down so it smashed before tugging at her wrist. _

Hinata looked back at Sasuke who was still holding her bag, "I-It's…a very precious memento that…" her eyes roamed and were glassy with hated and treasured memories. "I h-hold dear t-to me."

-

(1) 'Wall of fire' what do YOU think the meaning is?

Gaara wouldn't define drastic, why? Why give her the scarf?


	6. Chapter 6

_Black Sugar Fest_

_Chapter Six: Always okay_

**WARNING**: This story will have (occasionally) immature sex partners at times though brief and aren't dissected as anything but vague. Not like giggly immature or anything-but UNDERAGE. It will also be…a lot more vulgar in scenes (sometimes) than anything else-I swear. Beware (it rhymes!). And…don't say I didn't warn you, ne? It's in capital and bold print. Please…READ the warning before proceeding, thankies.

XxX

Hinata looked at herself in the mirror; feeling like a cow in the flamboyant outfit on her. The sleeves with long and billowy to add a more feminine effect to her, the dress was long and not quite form fitting, preferring to leave much to the imagination and it only stretched slightly tight across her chest. The separately made collar reached up behind her ears, curling a bit – laced with dull silvery silk and pale blue threads to match the colors that blended into ponds and exquisite designs on her dress. She wanted to claw it apart because of what it represented – a bride for the taking just as it represented for Hanabi a prodigy who held distaste for this family. She touched a twinkling earring in her ear. It was heavy and laced with white gold and heavy silver to create olive trees. The makeup on her face repulsed her, insisted by her father and pushy maids that she wear it to bring out her better features. Hinata cast a look to the Kleenex box at her nightstand before she ripped out three napkins and began scrubbing furiously at the pale blush, the glimmer lip gloss, the blue eye shadow and the damned glitter which refused to be rubbed away so easily. Her hair was done up in a curled and tight bun.

Delicate hands slid the chopsticks that twisted it from her heavy hair and allowed it to fall against her shoulders again – her neck no longer feeling cold. She smiled a little, it was forced and weak and thin as crepe batter. Her eyes were rather despondent and it would be easier to deal with the upper class this way; the politicians and their wives and children. Hyuuga Hinata; the living dead extraordinaire – come one come all! See her walk and talk as though she were real! Enter the intact zombie girl with a smile on her face and a failed heart. Look and stare in awe.

There was a knock at her door, "Miss Hinata, the guests are arriving and your father wants you to greet them at the door." Hinata turned to the door and felt her fingers twitch and grasp the loose folds of her dress with a vengeance.

"I-I'll be right th-there," Hinata closed her eyes and looked to her dresser top; spotting her mask for the evening. Painted silver with a trim of blue to match the rest of her rather dreary looking form, curled eyes greeted her. Her hands wove around it and she tied the ends of the velvet threads behind her head, fixing the mask on her. The carved image of a nightingale was fitting, in its own way, but no matter. Not anymore. Hinata smoothed out invisible creases in her dress and opened the door, walked out to the hall with soft clicks of her low heels following her.

_There was a redheaded boy sitting alone on the swings, staring down at the ground with tears falling from his eyes shamelessly. From across the deadened playground, a pale eyed girl watched him from behind the corner of a sandbox out of curiosity. Her tiny fingers gripped the wooden square's edge tightly and she never once looked away from him. He was rather frightening; this…aura about him was dark and brooding and unhappy – utter miserable and it was like a giant black hole of gurgling hate and anger drawing one in. The girl watching the little redhead was a Hyuuga – Hyuuga Hinata to be precise. She watched him because nobody else did and because no one else even looked at the ugly little creature she was. _

_She liked his eyes – they looked like broken pieces of dulled sea glass on a beach. They were pretty but she wouldn't dare to tell him. He was frightening and Hinata usually liked to avoid frightening people. Hinata bit her lip and gasped when he looked her way with narrow and angry looking eyes that were filled with tears. She ducked and hoped he wouldn't come over and spit on her like the other boys had done, or try to pull her hair out like some of the girls. She waited and a looming shadow went over her like some sort of dark cloud. _

_Hinata gulped and she looked up to meet the redhead's gaze; his tiny fists were clenched at his side and he stared down at her ruthlessly. Hinata bit back a whimper and scooted backwards. "P-Pl-P-Please d-don't…." Don't what? He could do whatever he wanted – he was a scary kid and frighteningly strong. He stepped closer and Hinata cowered into a type of fetal position. _

"_What're you doing that for?" he asked, not sounded angry at her at all, but his voice did crack some – like a kid who was through crying for a while. Hinata bit her lip and stared up at him. _

"_D-d-doing w-what?" her voice shook. _

"_Curling up like that," he went on and his angered eyes seemed to hold a rather hurt look. "Are you 'fraid of me too?" Hinata saw the hurt look, wounded and decided maybe he wasn't that scary. _

"_A-a l-little…s-s-sorry…" her shaking lessened a little and the redhead stared down at her. _

"_What's your name?" he asked, looking at her as though pleading for her to not run away like those other children who listened to their parents about the Sabaku child – that he was a horrible little boy. _

_Hinata swallowed hard, "H-Hinata." _

_He stared back for a moment before offering his hand down to her, hesitantly from his slightly curled fingers and tight palm; as though she'd hurt him or something. "I'm Gaara."_

_Hinata smiled up at him shyly and his lips twitched; a small curling of his lips responded in turn to hers. The sun was in her eyes at this angle and it hurt but that was okay, because he was offering her a hand up, and it was okay because he told her his name…and it was okay just like he was okay. Her hand swept up slowly and she curled her tiny fingers around his, holding on tight while he dug his heels in and wrenched her up to her feet. There was a brief flash of pain behind her eyes from the sudden change of lighting and Hinata continued to smile a little at him. He tugged at her wrist and told her to swing with him. The pain behind her eyes still stung a little._

_But…it was okay. It was okay_.

Hinata smiled at the guests beneath her mask, welcoming them with pseudo warmth into the Hyuuga household. She saw dozens of colors fly past her; purple, gold, silver, blue, black, white, yellow, orange and several reds that made her do a double take. Not the right red, of course. Her father wouldn't invite him – not after a year ago when he and Gaara had a stare off during a political dinner his father couldn't make. The redhead had thrown a hit right on Hiashi's when he had turned to Hinata, pointed a noble finger at her and said she would never run his company, nor his household because whores belonged on the street and she was damn lucky she was still in her bed. Gaara's short temper had reared its ugly hit and he jumped over the table and nailed her father in the jaw, knocking him back despite his always stern footing. Hiashi had nearly been rendered unconscious. Security had been called, but Hinata had snuck her friend out.

Hinata smiled at another politician who had his arm around a young new squeeze of his who giggled brainlessly at a sophisticated joke she probably didn't even listen to. "Nice mask Hyuuga." Hinata jumped and turned when she heard that voice – the Uchiha. "A bird?"

"A n-nightingale…" she replied, looking down and twisting her fingers over each other.

"Hn…figures," he commented and Hinata looked up at that, mouth open but she stopped when she noticed his mask. A well carved black wolf with intricate fur designs lining it. His eyes were only noticeable because they would occasionally gleam in the light but other than that they blended in perfectly with his mask.

"I…" Hinata trailed off, seeing something odd out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head to it instinctively but saw nothing. She heard a cough. Turning back to Sasuke, she blushed to her neck at her rudeness, "S-sorry…but I y-you know…like the mask…" she nibbled on the insides of her cheeks. Her eyes wouldn't meet his and she heard what she thought was an amused huff.

"Tch, you're not a flatterer are you?" Hinata made a squeak sound in the back of her throat but apologized but Sasuke stopped her. "Don't, it's nice." Hinata looked up at him and Sasuke smirked, which she saw since his mouth was not covered by his mask. His mouth opened and Hinata happened to have her eyes dodge minimally to the left. Her eyes widened and her hands felt numb, her arms did too and so did that rest of her body as though someone had sucked all the air out of her.

Red, red, red hair shined in the light of the expensive glass chandeliers above. A dark brown coat with its collar up didn't move and long black boots that went to knees with numerous buckles were visible. A black shirt and a sepia colored mask glared her way with frightful detail of scales and ridges. Hinata felt as though she'd just gotten a punch in the gut and she nearly staggered from the weight upon her shoulder placed there suddenly. Her mouth had gone cotton dry and Sasuke's words of curiosity were drowned out, just like all the giggles and humor of the party. Time had slowed for perhaps a moment. That was all. Hinata waited for trumpets or violins but there were none.

But that was okay. It was always okay.

Hinata was moving to the figure that stood as still as a statue just as she knew he would because he wasn't the type for romance and over the years, neither was she but her friend was here. Her best friend was here, at this dull and drone party even though they both knew how horrible the consequences could be. So, it was better than okay.

Hinata moved past people and she was before him suddenly, just like that. "Gaara?" there was no time for her stuttering to get in the way. Sea glass eyes, dulled to a grayish green stared back. Something warm tugged on her exposed wrist, which was, as always, so cold to the touch of a corpse. Fingers were wrapped around her wrist and she was abruptly moving after Gaara who was pushing through people in the crowd. She vaguely heard Sasuke call her surname but she ignored it. She was cold again, and he was warm just like a heater. So, being cold around him was okay. It always was.

They moved up the stairs quickly and Gaara entered a random room. Opening the door and closing it soundly behind him, he turned to Hinata and wretched his mask of brutally (which was perfectly fine because he wasn't supposed to be here anyway, so he didn't need it that much). Hinata took hers off gently. "Hey," he greeted blandly and he looked down at his fingers still attached to her wrist. "You're cold." Hinata didn't bother to push back the tears and let them flow. She clung to him and buried her face in his shoulder – she was probably ruining his jacket and shirt but it was alright because he was here, so it didn't really matter too much. Gaara leaned against the wall and gripped her forearm with his free hand while she leaned all of her weight against his shoulder just like she did when they'd been children. She hiccupped and didn't have to say anything; he could see it in her empty looking eyes and from the rumors he heard of Hiashi getting ready to marry her off soon. The redhead listened to her cry in the dark and felt her tears soak his skin through the fabric.

It wasn't really okay anymore.

-

O.O You all rock. Seriously. Your reviews have me floating and all that great crap. I'm so glad all of you like this story but in truth it's going to end in a bit. Maybe in four or five chapters.

Anyway; if you think Hinata's mask is appropriate or not, tell me and tell me why too because I'd like to know if we're on the same page (this is my way of checking to see what I need to emphasize or change a bit). XP Thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

_Black Sugar Fest_

_Chapter Seven: Two of the inseparable kind_

**WARNING**: This story will have (occasionally) immature sex partners at times though brief and aren't dissected as anything but vague. Not like giggly immature or anything-but UNDERAGE. It will also be…a lot more vulgar in scenes (sometimes) than anything else-I swear. Beware (it rhymes!). And…don't say I didn't warn you, ne? It's in capital and bold print. Please…READ the warning before proceeding, thankies.

While reading this, listen to the song "Birds and Boats". Unfortunately, I have no clue who the hell sings this. :D But, here's an AMV with it. You don't have to watch it, just listen to it. If you do however decide to watch it, it's very, very, very lovely. Extremely cute featuring two of my more favored characters (not in this anime though). XP

http://youtubecom/watch?vhkZ2I5hlURk (just add in the dot) Hn. Go ahead.

XxX

What are you to do when your best friend comes to you in a flurry of tears and pain? What are you going to decide when they grab your arm and they beg you on their knees to do the impossible for them? What will you say to them when you know you can't do it, when you feel their world collapsing as you want to say 'No' to them? What will you do when they cry on your shoulder, weeping and heart wrenching sobs that are dry?

Will you dry their tears, tell them everything will be fine and hug them as comfort? Will you cry with them, wrap your arms around them and sink down with them? Will you become their pillar of strength, while your world is not collapsing; you allow them to live there with you for a few moments? Those are all fine ways, truly; for friends are always beside one another whatever the case.

Sabaku Gaara was a boy of thirteen and he had to make a very adult decision when his friend did find him one night. That night, what had transpired would leave its mark them for the rest of their lives.

_The redhead stared out into the night, his grey green eyes on the low moon, veiled lightly by wisps of black clouds. The beer bottle beside him was nearly empty and the loneliness without his best friend made him slightly perturbed. Her father had been harsher on her lately, not wanting them to meet each other or even be acquainted at all for some time now. How could he do that to them? They had been near each other for…forever. It would be like separating a pair of hawks. _

_He stared up at the moon with glassy eyes, he had drunk too many tonight, he figured and since Hinata had been there to take away the ones which would ultimately floor him he continued to pour the poison in his system. His limbs felt lax and he closed his eyes, feeling the wind whisper through his hair like tiny fingers. Hiashi had said that their friendship wasn't natural; he was supposed to hang out with other boys, Hinata was supposed to hang out with other girls. This wasn't natural; this wasn't how things were done! He'd spoken of their companionship like it had been an abomination upon the world – a blasphemy. Gaara huffed. Idiot. Separating them…it would be like severing a limb from the both of them. There would be a hole in their middles, a void that would consume them because it would probably be worse than losing a limb. _

_He heard the door to the rooftop of the building open and he slowly turned his head to it. Pale skin exposed to the night air shivered, thin lines like claw marks decked her and her hair was mussed. "G…Gaara…Gaara…" she whispered and Gaara suddenly flew into full alertness. She stumbled but caught herself as she made her way to him. She was mumbling though he couldn't catch all of it, "…scared…don't want to…g-give it away…" the redhead moved to her and touched her face. The alcohol made him a little woozy and slightly incoherent. He put his ear close to her to hear her better. _

"_What?" he murmured, feeling her shake and break with every breath she inhaled. Her forehead dropped to his shoulder and he heard her inhale near his bare neck. A whisper of feeling made its way in his chest, purred and curled up warmly. "Hinata?" he whispered, still feeling off from so much alcohol consumption. "What happened?" the beer made his tongue loose and he was more talkative – not so anal about society. _

_Hinata was silent, still breathing in his neck deeply and still shivering, unconsciously she curled up closer to him and stole his heat with a touch of a corpse cold body. "N-nothing…it's okay now…" she replied, sounding mature and childish all at once. The cold wind sent chills down their spines and crept sly fingers along their necks. Gaara stared down at the crown of Hinata's head, wondering why she was here, why she looked so horrible and why she was smelling him._

"_What're you doing here?" the redhead, still alert and on guard still had a small slur in his words while he stood allowing his body to become a pillar for her own shaky one. _

"_W-when you l-look at me, there's n-no thorn in y-your eye," she whispered and Gaara shivered when cold breath hissed against his warm skin. _

_There was no thorn in his eye when he looked at her. He felt his eyelashes brush his cheeks when he cast her gaze lower and at a more awkward angle when he tried to catch her eye. "We should go and get you cleaned up…" he left it off when Hinata's head snapped up and he saw tears shining like a doll's glass eyes in her pale orbs. It was clumsy, and probably in the leap of the moment, awkward just like she was. Hinata's head moved in fast like a crocodile, a swarm of speed that Gaara could hardly track. Something soft was against his chin, right below his bottom lip, but it was comfortable almost, alien despite the chill it radiated. Her eyes were closed and Gaara stumbled back, nearly falling over when desperate hands clawed at his biceps. She made a gasping noise that sounded like a plea and Gaara stared down at her, eyes wide. _

_Her lips moved but she seemed to miss again since her eyes were still closed, chilled pillows of plush for a coffin pressed against the corner of his lips. Gaara pulled back and stared down at Hinata who seemed to crumble in on herself, curling in so no one would see her. "Hinata…" confusion lit his features and Hinata looked up from where she had buried her face in her hands, peeking between her fingers. "What…?" _

_She stared and for a moment, in Gaara's fuzzy mind, he saw something akin to irritation, but that was hardly the strange case. "I-I belong to the H-Hyuugas so…there a-are things that I d-don't want to give away but I…I have to…" she twiddled with her fingers. "I won't…g-give it away t-to any of them t-though…" she looked up at him and bit her lip, staring at him with such a gaze that could rival Bambi that he felt something move in his chest, murmur of lost childhoods and secret promises. Gaara wasn't so intoxicated that he didn't know what she was talking about, he knew of course because they both knew that would be the end of them. Hinata and Gaara. Gaara and Hinata. It would be the end of them and no one would be able to revive them. The redhead stared at her, hairless brows crinkled as though this was her fault, feeling slightly angry at the wheel of fate which had dealt them such a horrible deck. _

_His fingers wrapped around her wrist and he pulled her back to the door. Hinata stumbled after him and her fingers twitched so she caught the sleeve of his jacket. In their wake, they left a tomb of empty beer bottles behind, twinkling ever so slightly with their brown transparency in the moonlight. _

_The empty streets were not so empty when two teenagers ducked and dodged, seemingly holding onto to one another affectionately. Streetlights flickered and orange lights dotted the road before them, Gaara towing Hinata behind him. A house stood before them in hardly any time, though when you were trotting along in a hurry to get out of the cold things did seem to go that way. Gaara opened the door, and as expected, his siblings were nowhere in sight so he gave Hinata another tug and up the stairs they went. Everything was dark and quiet; the stairs would give an occasional creak in protest from old age. Hinata kept close to the redhead. Hinata scurried after him when they approached his bedroom, as though it was some sort of impossible specter that shouldn't be. An alien of the most unapproachable sort. Gaara's hand was on the knob and he turned it, making a gesture with his chin to Hinata to get in his room before someone saw them. Hinata shooed herself in and Gaara went in after her, closing the door silently, never noticing a pair of seemingly melancholy teal cat eyes watching them from a slightly ajar door. A head of messy blonde hair shook and the door closed. _

_The two teenagers in the room alone together felt marginal discomfort about the guillotine blade fall they had sharpened, the line they knew which would be crossed and rubbed out with a new one. It was almost exciting, this thing they had unconsciously prepared for over the years was now presented before them because they were the best of friends. They had slowly and surely built a sturdy relationship of companionship, a sure unsaid promise of loyalty to one another because no one else would want that promise from them. Hinata was staring fixatedly at a corner in Gaara's bedroom while she heard his jacket flutter to the ground which was followed by other items of clothes and low 'thunk' his shoes made when he wormed his way out of them. Her fingers gripped her shirt's sleeve and she rolled her shoulders while she lifted her shirt over her head. Her cast a look over at Gaara who wasn't watching her undress, rather keeping his eyes on his bookshelf, giving her some amount of privacy like she had done for him. _

_Her clothes were on the ground and she shivered, somehow feeling the chill though his room was warm. Gaara seemed unaffected. A hand reached out to come down on her shoulder, and Hinata could smell alcohol, wood smoke and lilies on him, "There's no going back, you know." She nodded and gripped his wrist tightly. _

_Gaara felt the world shake under him when he moved closer to his best friend, buddy since forever and until forever. She was cold, but he wasn't. His head moved slowly to her neck, where he saw a claw mark from a nail and he pushed his lips against it. There would be no compensation for actual comfort seeing as this was the only way they had devised in order to not be separated from their life lines was that this memento would be theirs – not anyone else's because you could only take it once. He felt her tilt her head back and his messy red hair was pushed against the bottom of her chin. Her legs bumped into his bed and he gave her a small push with his nose against her collarbone. She fell back gracelessly and squirmed her way up more, the redhead following. _

_There was a dimly lit lamp on his nightstand next to his bed that gave off a kind of warmth with a dark yellow glow. Hinata's breath was rather erratic and a droplet of moisture landed itself in the hollow of her collarbone; nestled snuggly. Lips meant to share words with a friend he never thought he would have were pressed against skin that had been in pain so many times beforehand. Pale eyes meant to stare widely at a friend who was also protector were nearly shut, coal colored lashes looking like rings of a monarch butterfly. Soft skin, no whisper of comfort and a small cry of pain that was abruptly swallowed by a mouth. Stillness, silence, mouth covering over another. Slightest of movement then, slow rocking, thighs cradling bony hips and sweat streaked skin pressed tightly against another. Harsh pants from a nose, small odd noises in the back of a throat were buried in a shoulder. _

_Like a bird floating on a water top suddenly taken by surprise by a crocodile launching snapping jaws out of the water, movement stopped. Small whiny, noises stopped as though cut out. _

_A head of red hair leaned against a pale shoulder while opalescent stared up at the ceiling, sweat lining her brows. The body above her still gave off small shocks; his arm shook slightly as he reached over and shut the lamp off with a click. Hinata's arms wove around her neck and kept his face where it was – at the crook of her shoulder. She could smell him again and took in a deep, shuddering breath. She couldn't talk right now, a low thumping pulse in her lower area made her uncomfortable and she squirmed beneath him, though she didn't unwind her arms from him. He muttered something against her shoulder and she let enough slack for him to whisper out, "Let go." She did. _

_He rolled over on the other side of her and Hinata bit her lip, hands reaching down to knead her stomach which was pained. Cold hands didn't help her cramping though – she didn't say anything, she'd done enough damage to them for tonight. A brush of warm air and there were fingers made of warmed coals pressing against her skin, already chilling with the loss of his. "Where does it hurt?" _

_Hinata didn't say anything at first until he pinched her thigh, "S-stomach…" his hand was kneading, willing away the small cramps that felt different from the ones she was used to. They just stared at the ceiling for a while, neither knowing what to say or do next even while Gaara's fingers dug into her skin a bit. _

"_I can't help if I don't know what hurts." Hinata turned to look at him, only his profile was shown to her though, one dulled sea glass eye looking at her out of the corner of its socket. Hinata nodded and an impulse nagged at her to wind her skinny arms around his arm. His hand stopped and Hinata curled up to him. "You're going to get in trouble if you don't go home." He warned, but it was rather half hearted as he didn't make another word of it when she spoke again. _

"_I-It doesn't matter to m-me that much," she whispered, cuddling his arm and stealing his warmth like a little parasite. He turned to face her fully, watching her eyes droop closed. _

_He didn't say anything but only pulled up the discarded blanket which had been nearly entirely tossed off the bed. He covered them with it and listened to Hinata breathe in deep. There was twitch in his lips. She was smelling him again. _

_He let his eyes close. _

-

…I got a little emotional while writing this and listening to that song. :/ …Argh. That sounds so fruity. Read and review. That's the price. So use the force damn it. XD


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